


two hands digging in each other's wounds

by 9crimes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:50:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9crimes/pseuds/9crimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time isn’t great.</p><p>It’s not like it’s bad but Clarke never really considered that sex with Bellamy would be anything less than great, even when she barely knew him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two hands digging in each other's wounds

**Author's Note:**

> set in an incredibly optimistic future, 3 years post 2x16

The first time isn’t great.

It’s not like it’s _bad_ but Clarke never really considered that sex with Bellamy would be anything less than great, even when she barely knew him.

It starts out good, with Bellamy getting her off with his fingers against a tree not far outside of camp, hand down her pants and forearm pressed against her mouth to keep her from crying out.

“Fuck me” she whispers into his mouth when he drops his arm and kisses her through her orgasm. He tenses up, like he always does when she hints at taking things further than him getting her off with his hands or tongue and the occasional handjob, but she can feel his cock twitch against her thigh where his knee is pressing between her legs.

“Clarke -” he starts.

“What? You don’t want to?” She grinds against him just a little, to show him she knows exactly how much he wants to, and his head drops into the crook of her neck.

“Of course I do…” he lets out a breath and places an open mouthed kiss to her collarbone. She lets her head fall back against the tree, hands curling into his hair as he works his way up her neck.

“Please, Bellamy, I want you” Clarke isn’t even embarrassed that she’s practically begging him to fuck her, she’s not ashamed of how into him she is, how much she’s dreamed of this. Not just the sex, just...being with him, having him in every way a person can have another person.

“I want you, too” he rasps into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “ _Fuck_ , come on”.

It doesn’t take long for them to reach his cabin, takes even less time for him to get Clarke naked and sprawled out on his bed (collection of furs...whatever) with his head between her legs. He takes her right to the edge, fucks her with his tongue until she’s a sweaty, writhing mess, then he’s inside her.

That’s when she loses him.

It’s subtle, the loss of connection, but she knows him, has been able to see him since before he was able to really see himself.

His jaw is clenched, brows furrowed in concentration much the same way they were earlier in the day when he was discussing construction plans for a new cabin with Miller. His muscles are tense, the veins in his arms straining as he moves. He’s beautiful, but when she runs her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, he doesn’t relax the way he normally would at her touch.

“Hey” she whispers, slides a hand into his hair and tugs until he lifts his hooded eyes to hers. His face softens a bit at her encouraging smile, but then he’s bending down to mouth at her breasts, using his teeth around her nipple the way he knows will get her to bite her lip and moan. It feels good, in the same way anyone who looks like bellamy and touches all her most erogenous zones would feel good. But there’s something missing, and she can feel him drifting further away from her with each thrust.

He comes soon after, and she finds herself feeling relieved. _He was just nervous_ , she thinks. They just needed to get through this first time.

“Fuck, you didn’t even….” Bellamy groans after he’s rolled off her and is lying back with an arm slung across his face.

“I did earlier” She reassures him quickly. “I’m good, it’s fine”.

“It’s not. Just, let me -” he moves over her again and starts to slide down her body, but she catches his face in her hands and pulls him back.

“Bellamy. _It’s ok_. I owe you 1 or 100, anyways, after the last few months.” She’s going for lighthearted, but his jaw ticks and the frown lines on his forehead are more pronounced than ever.

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s good. Kiss me?” He does, leaning his forehead against hers and pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth, then capturing first her upper lip between his lips, then her lower. She pulls him back down next to her and turns towards him so they’re both lying on their sides, her hand on the back of his neck and his arms wrapped around her. That connection is back, she can feel it, and when his body relaxes into her she’s overcome with love for this man. She doesn’t always _understand_ him, but she wants to. Tomorrow, she thinks. They’ll talk about it tomorrow.

* * *

 The next morning she wakes up alone. She goes through her usual morning routine, replays the night before as she prepares the tea leaves he can’t stand but keeps in stock because he knows Clarke can’t function without her daily cup. She hadn’t been planning on staying over and she’s used the last of the change of clothes she keeps in his cabin, so she puts on one of his blue tshirts and finds a strip of fabric to tie around her waist.

When she steps outside the cabin and sees the overcast sky, she smiles. He loves days like this. Lucius isn’t sprawled out in the doorway or pacing the perimeter, so she knows he’s not around camp. There are a few places Bellamy goes when he needs to be alone to think, and she would feel bad about interrupting him but what he’s thinking about involves her, and she won’t let him hide away from her when it comes to them.

Most scars are external, easy to uncover and evident for others to see, to ask questions about. Not Bellamy’s. Loving him means digging in beneath his skin, finding his scars and pulling them to the surface, confronting them head on with all the gentleness and fearlessness and tenacity that he himself possesses. It’s messy and she’s always wishing they didn’t have to fight so hard for every little bit of happiness they can get, but she wants him too much to give up. More than that, she knows that he’s done the same for her. It’s been 3 years but she’s still nursing the scars left over from the mountain, and she knows more than anyone that having someone to fight with you is better.

She finds him in the first place she looks, the fact that it’s the closest to camp of his spots putting a small smile on her face. He might have run but he didn’t run as far as usual, and that’s something. It’s sprinkling by now, and he’s lounging against a tree with Lucius, book in hand as the guard dog rests against his thigh.

“It’s raining” she says, stopping right in front of him, hands on her hips, smile still pulling at her lips.

“You know I like the rain, helps me think” he doesn’t look up at her, but he taps Lucius on the ear and gives him the signal to make himself scarce, making room for Clarke. She sits between his legs and leans her head against his chest, closes her eyes, content to let him finish his chapter.

When he’s finished he tucks his book into his pocket and slips an arm around her waist, dropping a kiss into her hair. Clarke turns into him, adjusting herself so she’s pressed into his side and she can see his face.

“Ready to talk about it?”

“Would it matter if I wasn’t?” he says, mostly joking.

“Don’t be an asshole” she shoots back, but there’s no heat behind it and he rolls his eyes good naturedly.

“Not much to say. Guess I’m just bad in bed.” She knows all his tactics, deflecting with humor is a favorite. She doesn’t respond, just interlocks her fingers with the hand that’s wrapped around her waist and looks up at him, waiting. He sighs after a few minutes and crinkles his nose in that way he does when he’s about to do something he’s not exactly sure about.

“You were with me, and then you just...weren’t. What happened?” He lowers his eyes and nods to himself and she can see the process happening in his head, trying to collect his thoughts and find a way to communicate them.

“I, uh. I’ve thought about it, and first I just need you to know, it wasn’t you. It had nothing to do with you and I don’t want you to think I’m not...that I’m not into you, or something”. She wants to laugh, cause she can honestly say she has never doubted that since the first time he kissed her (she doubted it a lot before that, but that’s another story), but he looks so sincere and worried she can’t bring herself to do anything but nod encouragingly and tell him to go on.

“Sex for me isn’t....when I was growing up my mom, uh” he swallows and tenses up a bit, as he always does when he talks about Aurora Blake. Clarke squeezes his hand when he looks away from her, a reminder that she’s here with him and for him.

“When I was growing up, my mom used her body to get extra rations for us, information about random inspections...who knows what else. I first realized it when I was 11. I read about sex in a text book, and my first thought was that’s what my mom does when she takes those men into her room and locks the door. When I was 18 I confronted her about it, screamed at her about what a terrible thing it was for Octavia to grow up with. She just...broke. I’d never seen her cry, before this. She cried and cried and cried, and I just...held her. After she calmed down, she told me she had no choice, there was no other way for us to survive.

So that’s what sex was to me. Power, control, a bargaining chip. I hated those men, I dreamed of cracking their skulls, choking the life out of them. I never wanted to be like them, never wanted to make anyone feel the way my mother felt. It wasn’t like I had a lot of opportunity anyway, I didn’t have friends really when I was taking classes and when I started cadet training I was too busy to worry about shit like that.” A feeling of overwhelming sadness always overcomes her when he talk about his life on the ark. To think of this man, the most affectionate and loving person she knows, as someone with no friends and no hope of sharing his life with someone...it’s hard to be thankful for earth, most days, but she absolutely is when it comes to Bellamy.

“So you...never had sex with anyone on the ark?” He grimaces at that, clearly uncomfortable with whatever memory her question conjured up.

“The day after mom was...after O was locked up, I was alone, you know, for the first time in my life. We lived in this tiny apartment my whole life, sharing everything, every second of the day. I loved it. Even when I hated it, I loved my mom and O, and I was happy, as long as they were ok. I didn’t know how to be without them. I was so angry, so lonely. There was this girl, one of the guys in my cadet training group had introduced us. She’d been interested, but I wasn’t...that wasn’t in the cards for me, back then, so I blew her off every time. Anyways, I fucked her. It felt good, helped me escape my fucking mess of a life. So I kept doing it, with anyone who was willing. They didn’t know anything about me, I didn’t know anything about them. I was using them, but they were using me too so I didn’t...I didn’t feel bad. I was an asshole.” He closes his eyes and presses his head back against the tree. The rain has gotten a little heavier, but the tree branches are mostly acting as an umbrella for them. She doesn’t press him further, knows he’ll continue when he’s ready.

“I never wanted it to be like that with you.” He whispers a few minutes later. “That’s why I always...I wanted you so bad, but I never wanted to be selfish with you. That’s all sex has ever been to me, you know, just how I dealt with the anger and the loneliness. So when we...it’s like a wall went up, and I knew it was happening but I didn’t know how to stop it.” His hand squeezes hers and she bites her lip, thinks about all the times she’d pushed for more, only for him to ignore her or close up...she wishes he’d talked to her sooner, but she gets why he didn’t.

As if he can read her thoughts, he looks down at her and searches her eyes. “Does it makes sense? Why I didn’t want to...do you understand?” There’s a desperation in his eyes, a pleading, and an overwhelming sense of security comes over her. It’s never going to be easy for them, even something that should be the simplest thing in the world for a couple, but he wants her in all the same ways she wants him (every way), and he’s willing to let her dig into all his scars the same way he’s willing to dig into hers, so she knows they’ll be ok.

“I’m starting to” she says, placing her chin on his shoulder, “and I’m sorry, for pushing you. If sex isn’t something you want right now, or ever, that’s completely fine. The way I feel about you is so much more than sexual, Bellamy.” A hint of a smile crosses his face for the first time all day and it makes her smile too.

“Me too. You already know you’re the only person I’ve ever, uh, felt this way about. I know I’m no good at this boyfriend shit but - “

“Hey, stop it. you’re _amazing_ at it.” She kisses him then, on instinct, and she panics a bit when she realizes it may not be the best timing, but he responds eagerly. He opens his mouth for her, brings their clasped hands to rest over his heart and slides his other hand down to her ass and pulls her up into his lap.

“Bellamy” she gasps into his mouth, “We don’t have to…”

“I know” he says, “I know. I want to...maybe now that we’ve talked about it, maybe that’ll help”.

“OK,” she smiles into his lips, “but if you want to stop, just tell me, ok?”

“Yea. Just...I don’t wanna _fuck_ you, you know?”

“Yes I know, you want to make _sweet sweet_ love to me” She says it teasingly, but he doesn’t laugh. His stare is unwavering, intense and warm and loving all at once.

“Yea, that’s kind of what I was planning on doing.” He says, voice even lower than usual and sending a shiver down her spine. His hands move over her thighs, wrapping them around his waist, pulling her in to him so that their hips are aligned and their chests are pressed together. Her nipples graze against him, reminding her of the rain.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to camp? It’s raining.” She manages to gasp out.

“I love the rain, remember?” His hands come around to cup her breasts, his big hands handling the weight of them better than any of the boys or girls she’d been with in the past.

They just kiss like that for a little while, touching each other with hands and lips and teeth.

After he unzips her pants and pulls them off her, he places her hands on his belt buckle, presses his forehead to hers and nods, letting her know he’s ready.

He’s already hard, and she wants to look at him (she hadn’t gotten the chance last night), but instead she maintains eye contact as she works him with her hand, making sure he remembers who’s touching him, who he’s here with. Then she lifts her hips, her knees digging into the ground on either side of him, and lowers herself onto him. He shudders, and his head falls back against the tree.

“Bellamy, are you with me?” She asks when he’s buried in her as deep as she can take him in this position. He opens his eyes, water droplets on his eyelashes and running down his face, and he smiles. He moves his hands back down to her ass and pulls her into him as he thrusts up into her body, going even deeper, capturing her lips in a dirty open mouthed kiss as she lets out a gasp. He sets a rhythm, slow and steady, his hands rocking her into him in time with his lazy thrusts. She can feel the pleasure building up in a way she’s never experienced before, the intensity increased by the new understanding she has of him, the knowledge that he’s trusting her so completely.

“You feel so fucking good. _Clarke._ ” All she can do is nod at this as she digs her fingers into his scalp and presses kisses to his jaw, his cheeks, his forehead, and back to his mouth. They haven’t undressed fully, and she can’t wait for next time when they can be skin-on-skin. The thought of next time, of infinite next time’s causes a giggle to spill out of her lips and Bellamy grins against her mouth at the sound and stops moving.

“Something funny?”

“I’m just...really happy. You make me happy.” He doesn’t answer right away, emotion clouding his face as he seems to process what she’s said.

“Fuck” he laughs, “Fuck, I love you” He kisses her and she freezes, eyes wide and hands frozen in mid air. They haven’t said I Love You yet, but leave it to Bellamy to just throw it out there with no ceremony. He doesn’t stop kissing her and after a few moments she melts into him, and he starts moving again, speeding their rhythm up. She feels the tell-tale tightness in her core, spreading faster and faster every time her clit bumps against his pubic bone, and suddenly she’s on her back with Bellamy pounding into her. His gaze is zeroed in on the place where they’re joined, watching as his cock slides in and out of her.

She comes, hard, arching up into him and he stills, buried balls deep inside her so he can feel her clenching uncontrollably on his cock. She usually closes her eyes when she comes, an involuntary response to the overwhelming pleasure, but she can’t take her eyes off Bellamy. He's breathing hard, and she's not sure when exactly his shirt came off but she's glad it did. His dark skin is glistening with raindrops, the muscles in his chest and shoulders straining to hold himself up above her.

When she’s come down off the high he’s moving again, eyes glazed over as he tries to take in all of her at once, muttering to himself lowly, “ _so beautiful...fucking gorgeous holy shit...love you”_

“Bellamy” she moans, cupping her tits and squeezing them together, using her thumbs to play with her nipples. The reaction is instant, just as she’d expected, Bellamy letting out a strangled grunt and his thrusts becoming erratic. She loves this, seeing him let himself go for her, losing control because of her. “Come on Bellamy,” she says breathlessly, “come for me...”.

He’s done for after that, and when he comes it’s with her name on his lips and she doesn’t think it’s ever sounded better.

They spend the rest of the day together, talking about everything and nothing.

She tells him she loves him and she’s pretty sure he cries, but he claims it’s the rain.

She doesn’t mention it hasn’t rained in hours.


End file.
